


In Sickness and Health

by JamtheDingus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (ask to tag), Gen, Sickfic, Slight Character Study?, Violence, Vomiting, Whump, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8858443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamtheDingus/pseuds/JamtheDingus
Summary: A collection of sickfics based on WordMage's prompts from tumblr. (links inside)Rated for violence and general grossness that comes with being sick. -----1. Shiro - Ill Timed2. Hunk - It's Nothing3. Lance - Open Secret4. Pidge - Suffer In Silence5. Keith - Insult to Injury6. Allura - Painfully Polite7. Coran - Irreplaceable; Stepping Up8. A surprise guest appearance from our favorite Bytor: Slav!





	1. Shiro - Ill Timed

**Author's Note:**

> The prompts were found [here!](http://wordmage.tumblr.com/post/145627337898/sickfic-prompts)
> 
> they'll be posted in order of appearance in the show! (prompts AND order below)
> 
> \---  
>   
> Shiro - Ill Timed - it’s the worst possible time for (character) to be sick, but their body didn’t get the memo
> 
> Hunk - It’s Nothing - (character) insists they’re fine, right up until they collapse
> 
> Lance - Open Secret - everyone knows (character) is sick, but they’re trying so hard no one has said anything
> 
> Pidge - Suffer in Silence - for whatever reason, (character) doesn’t want anyone to know they’re sick, and does everything they can to hide it
> 
> Keith - Insult to Injury - as if being injured wasn’t enough, (character) is getting sick too
> 
> Allura - Painfully Polite - (character) has very strong feelings about how one should behave, and they are even more mindful when they’re not at their best, talking through a sore throat, trying not to cough, attempting to stifle sneezes, etc.
> 
> Coran - Irreplaceable - (character) is the leader/boss and isn’t able to take personal time off, even when they’re under the weather  
> Stepping Up - boss/leader (character) is clearly miserable, so the others go out of their way to take as much of their workload as possible
> 
> Slav - Why Didn’t You Say? - (character) hasn’t been feeling well, making for some uncharacteristic behavior, and their partner(s)/team/friends are much more understanding once they realize why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro - Ill Timed - it’s the worst possible time for (character) to be sick, but their body didn’t get the memo

Roars that thundered the ground echoed all around him, and his stomach lurched. He had to lean heavily against the wall, sword hanging limply in his hand, in order to calm the dizzy spell that overcame him.

Lights flickered above and around him, though he was usually able to ignore them. Not today, with his pounding headache. And his nose was so congested he had to pant heavily from his mouth, which left him with a stale taste that had him struggling to swallow his spit to get some sort of reprieve.

The bars lifted and he was pushed onto the dirt.

The shouts got louder, and Shiro had to will himself to stagger from his knees to his feet as the cage from the other end of the arena opened.

Out of it came not one, but two alien creatures. Their slithering bodies, much like a snakes, wound around each other tight until their movements became in-sync. Or maybe his blurred vision was making him confused.

It didn’t matter. A noise rung through - the signal of the start of the match - and his opponent wasted no time in rushing him.

Even in his weakened state, Shiro threw himself to the side and shielded himself with his prosthetic as an armored tail came down upon his head.

With a slash of his sword, the opponent pulled back with a harsh cry, one of them curling around itself as it flailed, stomach bleeding green blood. The other comfortingly circled around it before turning its predatory gaze back on him.

Shiro shook his head, flinging sweat away. His heart pounded already, though the match had practically just begun. Always, they felt like they lasted lifetimes but ended only in minutes.

He remembered the fight prior vividly as he circled around the duo. A humanoid alien; a shapeshifter. Probably a telepath, too. They switched forms relentlessly to people he knew, people he could not _ever_ raise a sword to. He’d nearly lost.

But he didn’t.

He _did_ get attacked relentlessly by both emotional baggage and razor sharp claws that must have been laced with something poisonous to humans. That’s probably why he was feeling so shitty.

This would just have to be a quick fight (not that he didn’t try to make them all quick), and then they would leave him alone for the rest of the day. He would be fine. Whatever this virus was, he wouldn’t let it kill him.

The uninjured snake darted forward, but pulled back just before it reached him. Shiro fumbled at the fake out, and payed for it when the tail rounded like a whip and caught him by the leg.

A garbled cry of pain tried to sound from him as he felt _something_ crack from inside his body, but his chest caught as his lungs decided _now_ was the perfect time to hack out vicious coughs.

He was flung upwards, so high he could see the patrons of the fight clearly. Arms outstretched in excitement as they cheered at the action, eyes holding sparkling, ferocious twinkles. He saw a child, hoisted up on a pair of shoulders. Their mouth was open wide in awe, and he felt sick for a whole different reason.

The ground was unkind as he slammed into it, heavy on his side. This, of course, did nothing good for his already upset stomach and all he could do was lay there as it slowly settled. His bones ached, and he was pretty sure he cracked, or maybe even shattered, a rib. The only breaths he could take were short, wheezing gasps that brought pain with every shallow movement of his chest.

Unfortunately, the second attacker had already recovered before he could get back up. Both descended on him near simultaneously, desperate for a win.

He would _not_ die here. Not like an injured dog, waiting to be put down.

His arm - the galran one - swung in a wide arc and caught one of them by the chin. They went down hard, and Shiro sliced forward with his sword to cut the neck.

It choked on its scream, on its own blood, but Shiro ignored the sound. He had to.

Still, the sight and the horrified noise from its partner had him keeling over as his stomach flounced about like a fish out of water, constricting around itself in a vice.

With his teeth digging into his bottom lip so hard he could taste the blood spread across his tastebuds, he ran at the last competitor.

It went down easily, too overcome with its own sudden grief to retaliate in time. They screamed as the sword sliced into an eye, but Shiro didn’t stop hacking until it stopped moving, and only pulled back when blood spattered across his face. The smell of it brought him back, and he forced himself to walk away.

 _“Champion reigns victorious!”_ A voice shouted over the intercoms, and the crowd erupted in louder cheers. He could almost _hear_ new bets being placed on the next ‘contestant’, whenever that match would be.

His eyes shut, and he staggered backwards until his foot caught on a rock and he sprawled across the ground.

Sweat threatened to drown his eyes, even as he closed them, and his clothes clung uncomfortably to every inch of his skin. Everything hurt, down to every last hair follicle, and he was praying to any gods that wanted to hear him that they would grant him a reprieve. He gave them what they wanted, he just wanted to _rest_.

The doors to the pits, where the fighters wait for their next battle, opened and the chanting roared to deafening frequencies. He couldn’t help the choked sob.

Another fight.

The cheers merged with the sound of blood rushing past his ears, and he was barely able to turn fast enough when his stomach decided to empty its measly contents across the ground.

The blood of his previous battle dripped and mixed with it, red with the green of whatever they forced down his throat, and the brown of the dirt. It made him throw up again.

A flash - a memory - flittered past his vision. The Earth, as they (him and the Holts) saw it from their ship towards Kerberos. The oceans that swirled and mixed with the white-grey clouds. The greens and browns of the continents. If he squinted, he swore he could see the flickering lights across Asia.

He wanted to go back there; he wanted to see his family again and hold them tight and never let go.

His sleeve swiped at the back of his mouth as he shakily stood to face his next opponent.

Large, almost triple the size of him. Obviously new to the arena, with how little its skin was damaged. Or perhaps it had armor like the snakes did.

Either way, he would win. He just had to wait, and play their games.

He _would_ go home.


	2. Hunk - It's Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk - It’s Nothing - (character) insists they’re fine, right up until they collapse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was less of a character study and more of just... whumpy hunk...... and a bit of garrison trio. 
> 
> also a big thanks to [Grassepi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Grassepi/profile) for giving me the idea to add that whole dynamic!!! love u <3333333

Hunk whimpered as he curled up on the bathroom floor, arms wrapped tightly around his torso to calm the tumbling within.

He’d been up all night with an upset stomach, and he’d thrown up twice as many times that would be considered normal for him.

Another rumble had him struggling to sit up to stuff his head back in the toilet. The retching echoed and he would’ve winced if he could at the disgusting sound. But the most he could do was helplessly clutch the toilet bowl so that he didn’t dive face first into the mess.

Minutes later, he found himself right back where he started, coiled up below the toilet as it automatically flushed away the evidence.

He was absolutely miserable, but there was so much to do that day. There was _always_ so much to do.

So he dragged himself from the floor and stuffed his face under the faucet to wash out the awful taste. The water tasted pleasantly sweet compared to the bile that had filled his mouth about five minutes prior.

His stomach still ached as he moved to get dressed, but he shoved down the feeling as he prepared a mental list of the day’s activities.

 

  1. Breakfast
  2. Training
  3. Bonding with Yellow
  4. Help Pidge with... _whatever_ they’d decided on the night before
  5. Help Coran upgrade the Castle’s defenses



 

Maybe he could skip breakfast? And maybe Yellow wouldn’t be _too_ upset with him for skipping out on their together time…

With a weary sigh, he pulled on his bandana and his game face. It would be a long, _long_ day.

 

\----

 

Breakfast was… chaotic. Coran had _insisted_ they try another traditional paladin meal. This one was just as well received as the first, but… he looked so upset that they didn’t want to atleast _try_ it.

So Hunk shoved away his nausea, pinched his nose, and dove in.

It didn’t taste _that_ bad. The smell was honestly worse.  

But his stomach didn’t agree. Almost immediately, he was dashing off to the bathroom to puke it back up and go through the same motions from the morning all over again.

“Hunk? Dude?” He heard Lance knock before the bathroom door slid open. “Are you okay?”

Hunk gave him a thumbs up from inside the toilet bowl. Soon, a familiar, lithe hand was pressed against his back to rub soothing patterns into his heated skin.

“I know you don’t usually have an iron stomach, but you don’t look too good today…” Lance murmured to him.

“I’m fine.” Hunk croaked, staggering back to the sink to wash out his mouth and brush his teeth again.

“I’m sure Allura won’t get mad if you just tell her-...”

“I’m fine, Lance.” Hunk smiled, shooing him out of the bathroom and following just a second behind. He ignored the rush of dizziness that followed. “Now, let’s go bond and poke around each other’s head holes.”

Lance frowned at him, but allowed himself to be pulled along towards the training deck.

Once there, Hunk was fussed over for a few minutes by the other paladins because of his episode.

“Really, guys. I’m _fine_. Let’s just get this over with, yeah?” He waved them off, though it didn’t stop their worried looks.

He ignored them in favor of the sudden heaviness of his head. Everything swam past his vision and he teetered for a minute before he plopped down and slapped the alien device on his head that let everyone see into each other’s brains.

The sudden drop didn’t help his stomach, but his brain stopped twirling around in his skull, so he considered it a victory.

The others slowly but surely ambled to their spots. In the meanwhile, Hunk focused on his breathing. His lungs felt almost as waterlogged as his head, and his nose was making it rather hard to take a full breath, so he needed to spare all the attention he could on slowly expanding them, until they ached so much his eyes watered as he kept himself from coughing.

_“Is everybody ready?”_  Coran spoke up through the speakers, and the others quickly sat. Everyone (except Hunk) sounded off their affirmations, and the exercise began.

_“Now… we usually don’t do this exercise after months of training-”_

“That sure sounds familiar.” Pidge grumbled.

_“- But I’m confident you all will do just fine! Good luck!”_

With that, the lights of the room dimmed, and a soft hymn replaced Coran’s exuberance. It was like that of a church, maybe? But at the same time, it was full of flourishing notes, high soprano notes that twirled in an invisible dance high above their heads with the low altos.

Usually, Hunk would enjoy it. He probably would have noted to himself to ask Coran for the track later, to listen to again. And maybe he would’ve hummed along with it if he were feeling any better.

But the song only seemed to grate on his frazzled nerves, and he couldn’t force the irritation away. It definitely showed, when he was only able to offer a static-y image of the Yellow Lion instead of its usual 3D, High-Def resolution.

_Seriously._

The exercise hadn’t even started and he was already messing up.

He huffed under his breath, but that only forced out the coughs he so desperately tried to keep in. The Lion in front of him fizzled out as he doubled over, barely able to catch himself from planting his face directly against the hard floor.

“Hunk?”

The lights brightened again, which did _not_ help the raging headache he had.

Not to mention, he was coughing so hard his stomach was trying to empty itself again in protest.

He shakily tried to give a thumbs-up, to tell them that he would be alright in a few seconds, but all he could do was shove a hand over his mouth to force back down the bile that began to rise up.

Hands pressed against his back, rubbing light, soothing patterns as he tried to cough out his entire lung. The noise that resounded was grating, and felt like sandpaper had a baby with thorns and the resulting child made its home in his lungs.

_Gross._

Every motion sent spirals of pain through his head, and he couldn’t breathe in fast enough to supply his lungs with the oxygen it needed.

His body fell to the side, and everyone startled into motion. Lance dropped near his head, holding his body steady as his panicked voice barely filtered through the thick fog of Hunk’s mind.

More hands grabbed onto him, probably to lift him up. He tried to help, to roll over onto his knees or something, but he could barely get his fingers to twitch.

The lights above him blurred, until all he could see was vague outlines of his friends. His body went limp before his mind completely blanked out, and it was a bit frightening. But the pain was ebbing away, so he welcomed the darkness.

 

\-----

 

“Shh, you’re okay, dude.” Hunk heard as he woke up to more coughing that shook his entire body. Gentle fingers ran through his hair, untangling the sweaty locks as he blearily opened his eyes.

“Lance?” His voice sounded _awful_ , but his lungs weren’t crying out in pain with every breath anymore.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

Another hand came into Hunk’s line of view as it bopped Lance on the back of the head. “Don’t terrorize the dying.”

Pidge sat next to Lance, laptop nestled between her legs as she clacked away. The light was dimmed to match the faint, ambient lighting of Hunk’s bedroom, which was quite a peculiar thing when it came to Pidge. She _never_ turned down her screen brightness.

“I’m not _terrorizing_ him.” Lance pouted, leaning his upper body across the bed. His chin dug into the blanket, and Hunk reached over to pat the back of his head, where he was struck. “And he’s _not_ dying, Pigeon.”

It took a few moments for Hunk to clear his throat, and the amount of phlegm he felt in it was disgusting. He swallowed both the phlegm and his revulsion back down, as he burrowed his face into his pillow.

“What happened?”

“You passed out.” Came the obvious response. Pidge hardly glanced up as she spoke. “Looks like you have a Grade A space flu.”

“Apparently it’s not contagious, though? I dunno… Coran said the pod wasn’t needed, though. So you kind of just have to ride it out.” Lance apologetically grabbed onto Hunk’s hand, rubbing his thumb across the knuckles. “We have medicine for you, though. You feeling up to it?”

Hunk dug the palms of his hands into his eyes before he tiredly nodded, sitting up. It was a struggle, when his lungs threatened to repeat their earlier theatrics, but he eventually made it.

A small cup of pink medicine awaited him, held up by Lance’s skinny fingers.

“Bottoms up.”

Hunk plucked it up and swallowed it down without fuss. He’d never found the taste of (earth) medicine to be disgusting, but… he’d have to be extra careful not to need more of this from then on.

It tasted like a mix of grapes and dishwater, and he hoped he would never have to offend his tastebuds like that ever again.

Lance laid him back down, handing off the empty plastic cup to Pidge, who made an impressive shot into a nearby trashcan with it. Hunk would’ve cheered for her, if his voice didn’t feel so raw.

Instead, he let himself be tucked in. The blanket was pulled up to his chin as Lance babbled on about what happened after Hunk had passed out. Apparently, _Allura_ was the one who’d calmed them down. She’d lifted Hunk with one hand and dragged Lance along with her other to Hunk’s room, and forced them both in with instructions of strict bedrest and coddling. Pidge just slipped in behind them, with the excuse of ‘privacy’.

Frankly, Hunk was touched. He had no idea that the Princess cared that much. Or Pidge, for that matter.

Speaking of the green paladin, Pidge slid up beside him, claiming the corner nearest his head as her own. Lance climbed over his stomach to make up the other side, tossing his arm across Hunk’s belly and snuggling into his side. The pressure was nice. It gave him something to focus on as he laid there, his body trying to sweat out the virus inside of him.

“You don’t mind if we stay here for a while, do you?” Lance asked, even though he’d already made himself comfortable.

Hunk shook his head, and Lance reached up to smooth back his bangs again. “I’d appreciate it.”

Lance grinned. “You’re the boss. Now, go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up. Probably with something light to munch on?”

Pidge grunted a confirmation, and Hunk reached to pat her knee thankfully.

The two softly conversed above his head, low enough that he didn’t process the words fully. It became a comforting background noise, and a greatly appreciated one at that. He’d always felt the Castle was too quiet.

And he was so… _happy_. Excluding the misery that came with being sick, of course. Even though they hadn’t spent much time together as a group, back on Earth, the other two really cared for him. At least enough to risk getting sick with the same space-bug as him.

And, okay, maybe he had been lying a smidge when he’d it the first few times, but… he would be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long... i was in a Christmas Time Rut(tm)


	3. Lance - Open Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance - Open Secret - everyone knows (character) is sick, but they’re trying so hard no one has said anything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter got hella away from me, which is part of the reason why it took so long to publish
> 
> it focuses less on the sick and more on Lance's relationship with everyone else. warning for lots of self-deprecating lance in the beginning!
> 
> <3 hope you enjoy okay love you bye

His fingers trembled as he hovered over the trigger, and it took a moment for his brain to realize he had a straight, clear shot. A rarity in the midst of battle that he should take advantage of, but he _couldn’t_.

Blue twirled through the void of space, mostly working on autopilot by now. And Lance tried to will himself to care - to actually _do_ something - but his brain was so muddled and he couldn’t take a breath through the thick mucus that stuffed his throat and lined his nostrils.

Instead, he took a moment during the lull of the firefight, and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to force the air into his lungs, but all he could do was rasp like a dying fish, and it _sucked._

All he wanted to do was curl up in his warm bed with his favorite fuzzy socks and a mug of warm milk, with _honey,_ and watch cartoons until he passed out from that gross-tasting medicine that seemed to be the bane of every child’s existence.

But he couldn’t abandon his friends - or the universe for that matter - and he didn’t have his favorite fuzzy socks, or milk and honey, or cartoons in space. He didn’t even have gross-tasting medicine. He just had some sort of alien medicine he snagged from sick bay that had worn off mid-battle. The symptoms had smacked him full force after that, and he was certain everyone noticed.

They hadn’t said anything yet, thank _god_ , but he knew he was going to get the lecture of a lifetime after all the hits he missed, or all the times he almost crashed his Lion into another. He just _knew_ it, and it was stressing him out and he wanted nothing more than to curl up under the dashboard and cry. Maybe throw up a little.

But he really wanted a hug. And some warm milk.

_“Lance, watch out!"_ Someone cried over the comms, and Blue wasn’t fast enough to react before she took a direct hit to her belly, spinning her out of control. Lance groaned, and silently apologized to his best (human) friend as he realized the nausea he was feeling was probably what Hunk used to feel every time they flew in the Garrison simulators.

He tightened his grip and quickly straightened out Blue, blasting the fighter bots with ice as they tried to surround him.

He cleared his throat before he slapped on his signature smirk. He tried to think of something, _anything_ , clever to say, but his brain seemed to have shorted out just trying to remember how to stretch his lips into a smile.

“Looks like I’m too cool for school.”

The pun was weak at best, and Lance wanted to eject himself into space because of it, but the relief he heard from his other teammates was worth it.

“ _Sure, buddy. We’re just about wrapped up here, why don’t you and Hunk fly back to the Castle and see if Coran needs any help with repairs or anything?”_

Lance frowned. “Repairs are more of a _Pidge_ and Hunk thing.”

Nobody mentioned the fact that his voice cracked and hitched at least three times in that last sentence, and it sounded like he could barely breathe without trying to throw up. They also didn’t mention his absolutely awful performance during the fire-fight.

In fact, they didn’t say anything at all.

“Guys?” Lance cleared his throat again, and his eyes watered as he forced down the furious burn in the back of his throat. It certainly felt swollen. And hot. Were you supposed to drink cold things when you have a sore throat? Or were you just supposed to stick to soup?

His mom would know.

“G-Guys?” The tears in his eyes spilled over and he furiously wiped them away, tiredly collapsing against his seat.

There was a soft click over the speakers, and Shiro’s voice filtered through. “ _We’re here Lance. Everyone can head back to the Castle now.”_

“We're in the middle of a fight!” Lance argued. Or, tried to. His head spun mid-sentence and his tongue fumbled with the syllables. His body tilted forward as it tried to follow the motion of the shifting in his brain, and he couldn’t help the groan of pain as he just _barely_ held onto the strands of consciousness.

Unfortunately, his hands were still on Blue’s controls, and they dipped down along with him. She was promptly sent into a nosedive as he slumped forward.

Blue tried to override the controls; she really did. But she was almost panicking as much as he was, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to focus on not crashing or on comforting him. Her paladin was _sick_ , seemingly out of nowhere, and she couldn’t do anything for him. So, of course she was allowed to panic a little.

Lance breathlessly murmured nothings at her as he tried to regain control of his limbs.

_“Lance, buddy, please say something! Anything!”_ Hunk begged him.

“I’m fine, sorry.” He gasped. “Must have… gotten hit worse than I thought.”

Two Lions appeared on either side of him, Green and Yellow, and they propped up Blue as she began to list to the side as Lance’s vision blurred again.

_“We’ve got you.”_ Pidge affirmed, and the team’s faces popped up on his viewscreen. _“How are you doing?”_

“Fine.” His response was instant. “Let's just finish this.” He didn't mention that his entire body was on fire, or that he couldn't stop the shiver that shook his bones until they felt ready to pop out of their sockets.

_“Right…”_ Someone responded. Shiro maybe? It was a deeper set voice, so that seemed like the right choice.

Blue eased forward, and Lance’s head tipped back in the seat. A twinkle caught his attention and his breath caught as he saw a wormhole.

_“Oh, quiznak.”_ Pidge swore under her breath, slipping from Blue’s side to shield them from a rain of lasers. “ _Allura, I don't think Lance can…”_ The mentioned pilot flinched, and she quickly cut herself off.

“ _I don't think_ we _can win this one. There's too many.”_ Hunk picked up the slack just as guilt began gnawing away at Lance’s gut. Could've been nausea, though. Everything was kind of blending together at this point.

_“Everyone fall back. Hold them off until I can open a wormhole out of here.”_ Allura commanded, and they all grunted their affirmations. Lance more groaned pitifully, but they understood the sentiment all the same.

At Blue’s worried purr in the back of his mind, Lance shook his head until he regained his focus.

“Let's do this!”

 

\----

 

Well, he sucked.

They ended up having to form Voltron. The reluctance and nervous fear poured over their telepathic bond so thickly that Lance was sure the robot would burst out crying (and maybe puking) in the middle of the battle zone.

It was so bad that Hunk immediately tore off his helmet to throw up. And that just set off Lance’s upset stomach, and it was just-

Yeah.

So, once the bigger baddies had been severely damaged, Voltron gladly disassembled to deal with the strays. Not before Lance felt the full force of irritated thoughts from the others, though.

For good reason, too.

Lance hindered the team more than he helped throughout the entire battle, and he could _see_ it on their faces through the view screens.

He saw Shiro’s clenched jaw as he pushed back a battleship, hear it in the tone of his voice as he ordered everyone but Lance to do something. There were moments were Lance had a perfect angle to shoot the ship - to at least push it back for someone else to finish off - but Shiro always called someone else forward before Lance could even try.

He saw the way Keith angrily muttered every time a ship so much as tried to get close to Lance, as if this was nothing but a waste of time. And it was, Lance knew it. So he didn't try any quips that would just make Keith angrier. He just meekly thanked him, and tried to ignore the heated glare Keith sent in retaliation.

He saw Pidge, materializing in and out of view as she blended into the sky, attacking the smaller fighter bots as they tried to assault the Castle. She was _angry_ , and probably one tick away from ripping him a new one. She was antsy, too, and the only reason he knew why was by the way her nose twitched and her fingers jammed against her helmet as she tried to push up the glasses that weren't there.

At least Hunk wasn't mad at him. The two legs of Voltron had stuck together like glue throughout the fight, and Hunk made sure to watch his back when Lance went through another dizzy spell.

But he was a _defender of the universe_. He was supposed to help _always_ , no matter his physical condition. No matter if his limbs were so heavy he could barely clench a fist, or if his throat was so swollen he couldn't warn his friends about the ships sneaking up behind them. He was supposed to be the _best._

And he didn't do a quiznaking thing that battle.

So when he stepped out of his lion, and he slipped on nothing, landing hard on his hands and knees, he couldn't help the choked sob.

“Lance!” Of course Hunk was the first one to help him. He needed to mention how much he appreciated Hunk later.

When they rest of the team crowded around them, feet shuffling, and Lance couldn't take the oppressive air around him any longer, he latched onto the closest pair of legs he could and began to beg.

“I'll do better. I-I didn't mean to… to-” The words wouldn’t come, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. “I didn’t mean to!” Tears tracked down his cheeks, and they felt cool against the heated skin.

A pair of hands quickly pushed him back. “Lance, we- _no.”_ Shiro startled, dropping on a knee to grip the sick boy by the shoulders. His words floundered for a moment, and it was so out of character that everyone awkwardly shuffled around them.

“You did fine, Lance. I’m proud of you for holding out.”

Lance babbled helplessly at that, trying to refute him - to tell him he was the farthest thing that he should be proud of - and began floundering from Shiro’s grip until he was hoisted up by his armpits and lifted in a princess carry.

“Hush.”

The firm tone shut Lance up immediately, and he let his head loll in the crook of Shiro's neck.

His body shook like a frightened dog’s, and his chest heaved with each breath he took. The heavy panting was a punishment in its own way, as it forced Lance to cough up phlegm with every deep inhale.

Pidge flinched each time, and each time Lance guiltily tried to hold his breath.

She bit her lip fiercely, immediately clenching her fists once she realized what he was doing. “ _Lance.”_ She interrupted the tirade she was about to go on, taking off in a mad dash in front of them. “I'll wait for you all ahead.” She called back, instead.

The sick paladin watched her go with sorrowful eyes. Already the team was breaking apart. And oh - he was crying again. Great.

“You're gonna be fine, Lance. You did really good today, now let us take care of you. Okay, dude?” Hunk tugged Lance's helmet off and hooked it under his arm.

“‘m sorry…” Came the weak answer. Nobody responded.

Instead, the rest of the group split up with a silent nod above his head. Shiro and Hunk comforted Lance all the way to the medical bay. Keith dashed to the bridge as fast as he could to get Coran, and had practically dragged the Altean the entire way back.

Pidge, somehow, figured out how to use the equipment in the few seconds lead she had on everyone else, and was already setting up what she assumed they would need when the rest of the team arrived.

A pod was up and open, scanners were laid out, and the view screen already had Lance’s record pulled up as a reference point.

Shiro placed Lance on a cot, and for a moment he felt like Snow White. All they needed were three more paladins to represent the dwarves. And then a prince for him to dance around with and sing a song to.

“Is he humming?” Keith's brow furrowed from where he peaked over Shiro's shoulder.

“I think so.” Hunk frowned, pressing the back of his hand against Lance’s temple. “What do we have to do, Coran?”

“Let me just give him a quick scan, and I’ll let you know.” Came the oddly serious reply. Lance could always count on Coran to be worried about him, even when the Altean had his own problems; his own homesickness to deal with.

A cool finger skirted around his armor, hooking beneath the black suit and pulling at the neck. He moaned deliriously, hand reaching up to smack against the tingling sensation. Pidge curled her lip up at him, and he had to blink a few times to focus on her face.

“Pigeon.” He croaked.

“Hush, Lance. You’re going to lose your voice if you keep talking.” Hunk admonished, stepping behind Pidge to rake his hands through Lance’s sweaty bangs. “Take a nap, dude.”

Lance shivered on contact, and his teeth clacked together. At their worried look, he gave them a watery smile. “I think I’m getting sick.”

“Shh.” Came another reminder from Hunk, uttered over Pidge’s sarcastic “Ya think?”.

A door slid open with just about as much urgency as it could, what with it being automatic, and another figure joined them at the side of the cot.

Shiro turned to address Allura, standing rigid. “Princess, is everything okay?”

“We’ve gotten away from the attack. Everything is fine on my end.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes drifting from Shiro to Lance.

He looked like a mess. Sweaty skin, heavy wheezing. His eyes drifted shut every few seconds before the popped open again as his body violently shivered. Even his skin held an unnatural, pale tint to it.

“Is he…”

“According to the scan, his spinal cord is infected with some sort of… virus.” Coran frowned, bringing a hand up to his mouth as he read over the screen. “Part of his brain, too…”

The occupants of the room froze where they stood.

“Wh- Coran, are you sure?” Pidge rushed forward. “Let me see.” She more-or-less shoved him out of the way, and he let out an indignant grunt.

Hunk stepped forward to peek over her shoulder. “It’s not serious, right? I mean… if it were serious he wouldn’t be able to like… talk, right? Am I right? I’m right, right?” He looked up at the other paladins.

They all nervously looked away, almost as if they were afraid to think about the answer.

Coran pulled up a separated datapad as he stepped over to Lance again. “I’ll have to take a sample of the virus to find an antidote. In the meanwhile, I’m afraid I’ll have to keep him in quarantine. You all must go decontaminate _immediately_ , and come back so I can test you all for the same thing.”

He sighed heavily, placing the pad down to cross his arms. Shiro nodded, lips thinning into a frown. “Understood. Come on, team.”

Keith shot up immediately, obviously anxious to leave the situation. Not that he didn’t care, of course. It was just that he had nothing he could do to help, other than provide weak moral support.

Hunk looked ready to argue, but a quick nudge from Shiro shut his mouth. “I want to help after, Coran. I’m not really a doctor, but… I can help you find supplies you need, or something.” Came the suggestion, instead.

“I’d rather you not catch what he has. We have no clue how dangerous it is, _or_ where this illness came from. No, no… it’s best everyone stay out of here.” Coran began to shoo them out like one would a pet from the kitchen. “Come back when you’re sanitized.”

“But I-”

The door slid shut in their faces, and Hunk deflated.

“Don’t worry, big guy. Lance is tough.” Keith tried to comfort, and Shiro hummed his agreement.

“We’ll check on him soon. Besides, he wouldn’t want you to get sick like he is, would he?”

Hunk made a face, but quickly conceded. “I guess…”

“He’ll be fine.” Pidge said.

  
\---

 

Once they returned, armor glistening brighter than it ever had, Lance was nowhere to be found.

The room had a distinct disinfected scent, and every piece of equipment sparkled like new. Even the cot looked brand new.

“Coran?” Shiro stepped in first, followed close behind by his team.

There was a soft hiss, and a panel in the back of the room opened to reveal Coran, arms covered in skintight gloves that reached nearly to his shoulders, and a glass-esque mask across his mouth that fogged with every breath.

“Ah, paladins! I trust you’re… what’s the phrase… squeaked clean?”

“Uh, yeah. Where’s Lance?”

The panel shut behind the Altean as he stepped forward, peeling his mask off as if it were tape. “Quarantine! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to decontaminate myself now.” He slipped out of his gloves, revealing his usual pair beneath, and tossed them into a nearby garbage chute.

Hunk snagged him by the arm, “Wait, we can’t see him?”

“Of course not! That’s the meaning of quarantine, is it not?” Coran pursed his lips, looking up at the ceiling. “Is the translator not working?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, instead scuttering off with a mumble about repairs.

“We can’t just leave him alone.” Hunk whined softly, moving to paw at the door Coran appeared from. “He hates being alone.”

 

\---

 

Lance could hear them, just behind the wall. The blood rushing past his ears made it hard to distinguish the exact words, though, but he could tell that Hunk was worried. That they all were worried.

His chest ached, more from longing than the disease that ran rampant in his chest.

The room he was in was _dark_. The only source of light was the slow-blinking red of the machine hooked up to him. An IV, maybe?

Lance couldn’t find it in himself to care, really. He just wanted to be _not_ sick, so he could be out there with his friends.

He rolled over, and the subsequent, throbbing pain throughout his entire body made him tremble.

He welcomed sleep the moment it took him.

 

\---

 

A door opened, and the flood of light woke Lance up from his dreamless nap.

“Coran?”

Said Altean whipped around, immediately running his gloved fingers across Lance’s forehead, as if to feel his temperature.

“Yes, that’s me! How are you feeling, Lance?”

“Like I got hit by a truck and then forced to eat sand.”

Coran frowned, and Lance huffed a laugh that made his throat feel like nails on a chalkboard sounded.

“I’m… not very good.”

“Oh, I see.” Hummed Coran, and he turned to fuss over the machines hooked up just beside Lance’s bed. “Well, the other paladins were hoping to visit soon. Wouldn’t leave me alone about it, actually. They even made me replicate a few masks for them, just to see you.”

Coran paused.

“Would it be alright for them to visit for a while?”

“Yes!” Lance shouted, and his spine ached as he tried to hop out of bed. Coran shushed him gently, rubbing soothing circles against his skin until the pain passed. Meekly, Lance caught Coran by his wrist. “Yes, please.”

“Very well.”

 

\---

 

Hunk came in first, and he was immediately by Lance’s side for the entirety of his visit.

“Are you okay? I was worried sick. Well, obviously not as sick as you. But- _dude_ , I was freaking out, thinking that you were gonna die or something. You might still die! Did Coran tell you that? Was _I_ allowed to tell you that? I mean, there _is_ a chance that anyone could die, even with stuff like the common cold, so I guess it isn’t as serious as you _actually_ dying, but-”

“Hunk, you’re killing me. My brain can’t keep up with your words.” Lance said groggily, head flopping back against his pillow.

“Sorry.” Hunk said, sounding completely unapologetic. “I brought you stuff.”

And, seemingly out of nowhere, most of the things in Lance’s room were soon shoved onto the bed beside him.

“I know Coran said you’re supposed to be in quarantine, but I figured that we could just clean these once you get better.” Hunk spoke, mostly to himself, as he set out the various objects. Lance’s face creams, his Lion slippers, even the blanket off his bed (which was the exact same type as the one that was currently tucked around his form).

Still… Lance was grateful for the effort.

“Thank you.” He murmured, snuggling up to his robe. Hunk just grinned happily past the glass-mask that covered the bottom half of his face, and he hopped on the bed to regale the latest activities of the team, if only to give Lance something comforting to listen to as he drifted off to sleep again.

 

\---

 

When he woke next, Coran was there again, pulling a needle from Lance’s arm.

And just beside him was Pidge. She’d claimed a spot on a trolley, shoving the medical supplies on the shelves below her perch so that she could cross her legs and clack away at her keyboard, which had been covered in a thin layer of film. Probably to keep the germs off of it.  

“Oh, he’s up.” Pidge said, and Coran moved to dim the lights. Lance silently thanked him. “You look dead.”

“I feel dead.” Lance muttered, fingers straying to press against his aching stomach. “How close am I to not being dead again?”

Pidge shrugged. “Biology is not my expertise, I’m afraid.”

Coran spoke up, instead. “The bacteria seems to be receding, thanks to the vaccine. Unfortunately, it may take a few days for it to completely leave your system.”

Lance just grunted, and his eyes fluttered shut.

Pidge mimicked the noise, and he could hear her begin to type again.

He drifted in and out of consciousness about three times during her visit. When he woke, they picked up the conversation right where they left off, and Pidge barely moved from her spot for the (what he assumed to be) hours that she stayed.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.” He mumbled once as he rubbed sleep from his eyes, turned over onto his stomach as Coran scanned his spine.

Pidge just shrugged, kicking her legs to move the trolley closer to his head.

“I like the background noise.” She claimed, and paused for a moment to listen to the beep of his heart-monitor and the whir of the IV latched onto his arm. “It helps me concentrate, you know?”

Lance smiled, hiding the expression in the crook of his arm as he buried his face into his pillow. “Sure.”

He knew Pidge hated noises like that. She preferred actual words that blended into the background, or loud humming that drowned out everything else. Not rhythmic drips that interrupted her train of thought every few second or erratic heartbeats were more like distracting music. But he appreciated her being there, all the same.

 

\--

Surprisingly, Keith is the next one to show up. Lance was sure he would have steered clear, for whatever reason.

“Oh… it’s _you._ ” Lance jabbed, but the words held no venom, and he could tell Keith didn’t take any of his usual offense.

“It’s me.” He confirmed instead, voice soft.

Lance coughed into the crook of his arm, and Keith was quick to hand him the alien equivalent of a tissue.

Lance’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he took the offered token and loudly blew his nose.

Afterwards, neither of them said a word. The silence was so awkward that Lance kind of wanted to get thrown out of the airlock (again).

“Dude. What are you doing here?”

At that, Keith actually _did_ look offended. “I’m visiting you.”

“Yeah, but... _Why_?"

“Because you’re sick?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be. Send Hunk back, if he wants to come.”

“Everyone else is asleep.” Keith informed, and Lance couldn’t tell if the tone of his voice was from irritation or if he was pouting.

“Well, why aren’t you?”

Keith gave him a deadpan look. “I just said that I’m visiting you.”

Lance wanted to argue a bit more, but his head suddenly felt heavy, and the lights were too bright. “Fine. Whatever.” He grumbled, suppressing a groan as he tried to roll over into a more comfortable position, irritably rubbing his eyelids.

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep again, but it was probably between muttered curses and a cough.

Keith was still there when he woke up, nestled in a corner with his arms crossed. The lights were dimmed low again, and a pillow had been stuffed behind his back, supporting his moody spine.

His stuff had been piled neatly at the foot of the bed, and his robe was wrapped over his legs, presumably to keep him warm. When he lifted it up, a familiar red jacket was stuffed around his stomach, surprisingly warm despite the crop-top design.

He looked back over to Keith, whose head was dipped back to lean against the wall as he napped away.

Huh. Guess he was there because he wanted to be, then.

 

\---

 

Shiro was there, the next morning. _Early_ morning. Like, 4 a.m., standard castle time.

Not that the time mattered much, since Lance was wide awake anyway. Coran had come and gone, practically forcing him to drink his body weight in water before he left. Not only that, but he’d been shoving home remedies at him left and right.

“Hunk mentioned that you like milk! And, well… I have no clue what that is, but we have the Tears of Famorta, which is better!” Coran proudly twirled his moustache around his forefinger.

Lance suspiciously sniffed the drink. “How do you know it’s better if you don’t know what milk tastes like?”

Coran narrowed his eyes, tilting the cup against Lance’s mouth so that he would take a sip. “Drink your tears, Lance.”

They didn’t taste they bad (the tears), but Shiro was a welcomed distraction from the constant fussing.

But he was just _sitting_ there, and it was so awkward, Lance kind of just wanted to pass out for the duration of his stay. But that was rude, and it obviously meant a lot to Shiro (not to mention the rest of the team) to visit him.

“So…” Lance began, grunting as he leaned back against his mountain of pillows. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Good.” Shiro cleared his throat awkwardly. “How are you?”

“About as good as I can get, after having my head nearly explode.” Lance joked. Shiro winced, though he gave the other a wry smile at the morbid joke.

“Okay, I- this is _so awkward_.” Lance groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Tell me something funny.”

Shiro startled at the sudden change in demeanor. “Something _funny_?”

“Yes! Here, I’ll go first.” Lance tapped his chin as he began to think, ignoring the painful twinge in his bones. “A few years ago, I accidentally stole a military vehicle and drove it all the way to town until I realized it wasn’t mine.”

Shiro’s eyebrow furrowed, and he looked so flabbergasted at the sudden confession that Lance couldn’t help cracking a grin.

“We were going on a town run, and they wanted us to take those little buggies, you know the ones, but I got turned around and ended up going with a senior group instead of the one I was supposed to be in.” He briefly summarized. “Surprisingly, I didn’t get in trouble. Too much.”

Lance looked away, fiddling with stitches in his blanket. “I may have also blown two tires and used all the windshield wiper fluid.”

Shiro shook his head, but his shoulders relaxed a bit, and his mouth was dipped into an almost-smile, and that was enough for Lance, who collapsed against his pillows. Even that little amount of exertion had him wanting to pass out. Again.

Ugh, was it possible to be tired of sleeping? Because Lance was tired of sleeping.

“I blew up the cafeteria microwave once.” Shiro said.

“Wh…” Lance slowly sat up again. “ _You_? No!”

Shiro grinned and nodded. “I was trying to heat up some leftovers, and...” He scratched behind his head. “I have no idea why it blew up, but I ended up having to get the entire base evacuated. At three a.m.”

Lance snickered. Golden Boy Shiro, blowing up military property? “How much trouble did you get in?”

“None, actually.” Shiro confessed. “They never figured out who did it, and… I would rather have not have had to clean the urinals for a week.”

Lance let out a scandalized gasp. “I can’t believe Shiro is a liar and an arsonist. Wait ‘til I tell the team!”

Then, the two of them shared silly, mildly embarrassing stories from their younger days late until the morning came, and Coran was there to shoo Shiro off to either sleep or train.

(Two guesses which one Shiro chose).

Lance was just happy that maybe he and Shiro had a little more in common than he previously thought.

 

\---

 

Surprisingly, Allura visited him. Not even just once, but a handful of times.

Sometimes, she was arrived when another paladin was already visiting, but she never ducked away. Instead, she sat between Lance and (usually) Pidge, and listened to their soft banter.

Often times, the three of them watched Earth cartoons. The Princess was easily coerced into joining them on the bed to watch whatever it was Pidge had on her laptop, and Allura absolutely adored everything she was shown. Apparently most entertainment was live-action, back on Altea.

Other times, it was just her and him.

She watched over him as he slept, busying herself by reading over his vitals, doing a small diagnostic over the Castle, even braiding her hair.

“I can do that.” Lance spoke up quietly as he watched her struggle with the top of her head.

“Hm? Oh, no you should rest, Lance.” She began to admonish, reaching over to press a scanner against his skull. “Perhaps it was a bad idea letting everyone visit. You seem to be healing slowly.” She frowned.

Lance quickly pushed her hands away. “No, this is great! I feel better than ever!”

At the perhaps panicked look in his eye, she quickly pulled back and recanted her statement.

“Very well.”

“So I can do your hair?”

She startled, as if she’d forgotten that he’d offered. She regarded him carefully, as if he were lying about feeling better.

(He was, but only a tiny bit. His fever had broken long ago, his throat no longer felt like Hell itself, and now he was just waiting for his spine to stop strangling itself).

“Very well.”

She turned and sat on the edge of his bed, and he slowly pulled himself up to curl up behind her, dragging his fingers through her hair until it was separated into tiny strands.

Then, he began to intricately braid every single lock. And he spoke the entire time. He told her about his recovery. He talked about the paladins, and how he really enjoyed their presence. He talked about Coran forcing tears of whatever down his throat.

At that, she laughed.

“He’s done that to me, as well. I was always easy to catch illnesses, and he always swore that Tears of Famorta were a godsend, and could heal any ailments.”

Lance shook his head. “Sounds the same as my mom.”

“Your mother knows of the tears?”

“Oh, uh- no. She always made me drink this really disgusting tea, though, and like a _bucket_ of honey in it when I was sick.”

“Oh? Did it work?”

“Probably about as much as these Tears of Fafa whosit.” He teased, wrapping a coil of braids around her head to mimic a crown.

And okay, when Allura laughed she was _really pretty_.

 

\---

 

Eventually, though, Lance gets better.

His spine stops throbbing every time he breathes, and, speaking of, his breathing gets light enough that he no longer wheezes when he has to shift positions.

He was most relieved about the lights, though. The entire time he’d been sick, the lights had to be turned down as low as possible, and even then it felt like his eyes were going to explode from the beams.

The first thing he did once he was ejected from quarantine was jump on Hunk and hug him tight.

Then he hugged the rest of the team, whether they liked it or not.

(None of them complained.)

(They also didn’t bring up his little breakdown post-battle, and he was infinitely grateful for that.)

He does, _however_ , get teased relentlessly once Coran shares where his illness originated from.

“Try not to lick any more foreign space rocks.” Coran grunts as Lance squeezes the dickens out of him.

Lance makes a show of contemplating his words and Keith can’t help but punch him in the shoulder, as if to force him to take his health seriously.

“We were worried about you.” Shiro admitted. “We’re glad you’re okay now.” He says, and Lance takes a really good look at his team.

They look _tired_. Because of him?

No- because they were _worried_ for him. And, as selfish as it may be, Lance feels happy at the implications.

And later that night, after Lance gets fed enough to last a lifetime and the team has had enough hugs for the rest of the millennia, Hunk drags Lance away to watch the stars.

“Hey, dude.” Hunk whispers, tucking a blanket around both of them when they begin to nod off.

“What’s up, Hunky Brewster?”

“Next time you get sick enough that your brain starts eating your spine, make sure you tell somebody, yeah?”

Lance grinned, tossing an arm around his shoulder and pulling Hunk close. “Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're curious about the inspiration for Lance's illness, I used a lot of symptoms from a condition called "Aseptic Meningitis" except... I used a very loose definition of it. If you want to learn more about it (or just wanna see how badly i messed up this disease), check out the links below!
> 
> [here](http://www.healthline.com/health/aseptic-meningitis?s_con_rec=true#Overview1), [here](http://www.uptodate.com/contents/aseptic-meningitis-in-adults), [and here](http://www.nytimes.com/health/guides/disease/aseptic-meningitis/overview.html)!
> 
> also yes.... he got sick because he licked a rock. 
> 
> don't lick rocks unless you're a professional geologist, kids.


	4. Pidge - Suffer in Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge - Suffer in Silence - for whatever reason, (character) doesn’t want anyone to know they’re sick, and does everything they can to hide it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pidge just catches a little space-cold and misses her family

For the last ten minutes, Pidge had seen nothing but the light of her computer, which only grew more and more fuzzy as time went on. She’d yawned so much that her jaw was sore, and her ear rang with a faint ache.

It was probably long past time to go to bed, then.

She stretched out her legs until her bones cracked and her muscles twinged in protest. Then, with a loud grunt that echoed in the dark room, she pulled herself up and gathered her computer.

With it securely pressed against her chest, she began the short trek to the bedrooms. The hallways were dead silent, besides the whir of the Castle's engines as they blasted through space.

Her door squeaked as it opened, and she made a mental note to ask Coran to look at it whenever he had the time.

Pidge yawned again, not bothering with shedding her clothes and instead dove into bed face first, shoving her laptop securely into the corner of the bed.

She was asleep about two seconds later.

 

\---

 

When she woke, her chest was heavy with... mucus, it felt like? Or heavy air? She had to resort to breathing through her mouth, too, as her nose felt stuffed full with cotton.

She blew her nose on her shirt sleeve before she thought of the consequences.

"Eugh..." Oh, gross... her voice even had that sick, nasally quality to it.

Vaguely, as she rolled out of bed and shed her long-sleeve shirt, she hoped she didn't catch some sort of alien virus that killed the infected within 24 hours. What a cliché way to die.

With a loud snort, she finished blowing her nose on her already dirty shirt and grabbed her laptop. She'd probably feel better by the end of the day, anyway. And if not, she could just nab some medicine before bed from the med-bay.

 

\---

 

"Woah, Pidge! Lookin' good." Lance grinned as he passed her on the way to the kitchen for breakfast. "Trying to show off your new paladin-muscles?" He pinched her exposed arms and she groaned as she batted him away.

With a frown, he pressed the back of his hand against her shoulder again. "You're a little warm there, Greenie."

She flapped him away again, and Hunk spoke up before she did. "That's probably why she took her shirt off, right? It has been a little warm lately."

Lance made a face, a corner of his mouth twitching downwards, and she held back a sniffle. Instead, she accepted whatever bowl was placed in front of her and slowly shoveled spoonfuls of it into her gullet.

With a helpless shrug, he sat back down and began to eat his own breakfast.

The rest of the meal was relatively normal. Keith and Lance prodded at each other, and Shiro praised Coran and Hunk on their joint efforts in the kitchen. Allura wasn't with them that morning, but that wasn't too unusual.

It was unusual that Pidge was, instead of gradually waking up, nodding off into her bowl.

When she'd accidentally stuck her nose in the food goo for a third time, Shiro placed his hand on her shoulder. It took a moment for her to register its presence, though, and by then he'd grown a worried look across his face.

"Are you feeling alright, Pidge?"

She rubbed at her eye with the back of one hand, pushing her bowl away with the other. "I'm good."

"If something's bothering you, we can-"

"I'm fine, Shiro. Really." She shoved herself out of her chair and trotted off, holding in a snort until she made it a couple of feet down the hallway. Alteans really needed to invest in tissues instead of handkerchiefs.

Once she made it back to her room, she realized that it may have been a little rude to just stomp off like that. But it was whatever. She'd feel fine later, anyways, and apologize then.

She curled up in the corner of her bed, hugging her knees to her chest as she began to nod off again. All that congestion was making her head feel heavy.

God, she missed her mom, though. She'd always been able to tell just like _that_ whenever Pidge wasn't feeling well. And she'd always heat up some of her favorite canned soup - tomato, of course. Screw chicken noodle. - and would even throw in a grilled cheese if her throat wasn't sore.

And her dad would come home from work early, if he could, and he would sit next to her head and tell her all about the things he'd seen while preparing to go to space. All the while he would be running his fingers through her hair, teasing her about the knots she'd always seemed to miss in the back without Matt's help.

God, and Matt would burst in later, as if she were dying or something, and he would hold onto her hand and promise that he would find a cure. She was just lucky he cared that much, probably.

Pidge rolled her torso until she collapsed against her pillow, tangling her fingers in the sheets to simulate holding someone else's hand.

She fell asleep with her face buried as deep as it could go in her pillow. If she focused hard enough, it kind of felt the way her dog's belly would whenever he let her lay on him.

 

\---

 

She woke up to someone holding her hand, and she squeezed tightly until whoever it was shifted their legs, squeezing back.

Instead of being half-curled in a ball, she was now laying on her stomach underneath what felt like a billion duvets, and it felt like someone was sitting beside her?

Her eyes cracked open, still as heavy as they felt when she'd passed out, and she had to blink twelve dozen times in order to clear her vision.

The lights were low enough not to hurt her slightly throbbing head, and her nose felt a little better than it did before.

Someone tilted into her view, and she turned her head.

"Keith?"

Said Keith jumped about a foot in the air, startling both Hunk and Lance into nearly spilling whatever they were drinking all over their pants. That caused her to crack a smile, and Keith visibly relaxed, thumb awkwardly rubbing against the back of her hand.

"You're sick." He helpfully informed, and she had to resist rolling her eyes. "We got worried when you stayed in your room all day after breakfast, and-"

"And Hunk here had to hack his way in before Shiro acted too rashly and tried to stab it open with his hand." Lance interrupted, nodding sagely. "We were super worried about our baby paladin."

They could have just as easily asked Allura or Coran to crack open the door if they'd thought about it hard enough, but Pidge didn't bring it up. Instead, she rolled over to face Shiro, who had claimed the side of her bed next to the wall.

He pressed his fleshy hand against her forehead, a frown creasing his brown. He'd grow lines there with how often he frowned these days. "Why didn't you tell us you weren't feeling well, Pidge?"

She chewed on her lip until Lance shoved his hand in her face, rubbing some sort of balm on them despite her contesting him every step of the way.

"I just... I dunno." She felt her lip tremble a bit, and her voice cracked as she continued on. "I usually never had to tell anyone."

It took a few moments for the words to sink in, but as soon as they did, Shiro looked extremely guilty, and his whole body sagged as if he were literally weighed down by the words.

"I know it was stupid, I just..."

"It wasn't stupid, dude." Hunk offered her a warm cup. "You're just homesick. And we probably should've payed a little more attention to you, anyway."

She took a long sip of what was probably medicine mixed in with something else to hide the taste. Matt usually did the same thing, whenever he could.

Her breathing stuttered, and she felt two different hands press warmly against her back. "I don't feel so good." She mumbled, and her nose stung as tears pricked at the edges of her eyes. Blindly, she reaches out until her arms wrap entirely around someone, burying her face into their neck until the humidity of her breath wet their collar.

Hunk grimaced at the feeling, but he let her cling nonetheless. He wasn't a stranger to a little hug therapy– whether or not someone was covered in tears or... something half-digested that got spit up again. Instead, he climbed onto the bed with her and Shiro, and hoisted her into his lap until he was cradling her.

Lance tugged Keith onto the bed with him, reaching across Hunk's legs to hug Pidge from behind. By the way his back bowed down, it wasn't the most comfortable position in the universe by any means, but he was doing what he felt he needed to do to offer comfort to his hurt friend.

Shiro touches her next, his hand coming to rest first against her forehead again, then running his palm back to push away her sweaty bangs. And he continued the motion until it became a soothing sensation that did wonder to calm her down again.

Keith lastly came up behind, fitting himself between Lance and Shiro to push his hand against her back, a few of his fingers fiddling with her hair fringe at the nape of her neck.

It was a lot more touching than she was used to in the recent months, but she didn't feel up to pushing them away. She kind of liked it, anyway.

And, while she didn't think anyone's hugs could match up to her mom's, Hunk was very comfortable and _soft_ , and he didn't mind her tears dripping down onto his neck. And Lance was murmuring something vaguely comforting next to her ear, and Shiro's and Keith's touching was doing wonders to make her body relax.

It was very warm in the pile on, but it was a good feeling. Maybe next time they could start with this in the first place, a pile of slightly sweaty bodies lumped together until one of them inevitably got sick, too.

And maybe next time they could make room for her dad and Matt, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this wasn't as grand as the last one, i don't think? but i really cry about pidge missing her family atleast every day (ಥ﹏ಥ)
> 
> LMAO IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER TO COME OUT!!!! i was trying to focus on my nano fic (which recently completed and im prouf af of myself) but hopefully i won't let this story reach another 6 month dry period again! fingers crossed, yeah? <3


	5. Keith - Insult to Injury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith - Insult to Injury - as if being injured wasn’t enough, (character) is getting sick too
> 
> tw for stabbing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keith is probably the hardest out of all of the paladins for me to write, so please take this one with a grain of salt.
> 
> pretty heavy on shiro & keith b/c i absolutely love their interactions and just thinking of them saying goodbye b/f the kerberos flight just Fucks Me Up. this one could be taken as romantic if you'd like, but was written as platonic <3

With a calming inhale in, Keith counted the steps of the passing guards. As they went by, he slowly exhaled and jogged in the opposite direction— careful to time his footsteps with the thumping machinery nearby.

He kept going until the very last moment, diving into a nondescript corner just as another patrol turned down his corridor.

Another bout of waiting had sweat beading down his neck, and he irritably scratched at it from over top his armor.

The patrol passed and _finally_ he'd made it to the console. All that he had to do now was hook up his suit and Pidge could do the rest.

Just as he'd connected the right wires and gotten all set up, a foreboding _woosh_ had him freezing as the door behind him opened.

 

\---

 

Allura worriedly chewed her bottom lip, narrowly dodging a barrage of torpedos aimed at the ship.

"We'v been found out, I'm afraid." She warned the rest of the paladins. "Hide as best you can, and I'll lead them away.

"Understood, Princess." Shiro confirmed, ever the leader. Most of the team had already met up, and he was just one hallway away from them. "We'll keep the channels open."

"Be careful down there."

And that was that. Shiro sighed wearily, coming up behind Pidge, who was clacking away at her wrist-computer.

Lance was just beside her, gun up and at the ready as he watched the two halls connected to theirs. Hunk was just finishing barricading an exit that was much more likely to be a risk than a viable escape, and Keith was...

"Where's Keith?"

Three pairs of eyes darted to him, and he was met with two shrugs and a soft grunt from Pidge.

"I haven't heard from him yet." Lance helpfully spoke up when no one else did.

"He's still hooked up to his console." Pidge added, shutting closed her computer. "Maybe he just didn't get the memo."

That didn't sound like Keith, but it was possible he'd encountered some trouble. Shiro nodded, tossing a glance over his shoulder. "This area isn't very safe, anyway. Let's go round up Keith and find somewhere to bunker down for a few hours."

"Right'o, boss!" Lance said, leading the pack down the hall towards Keith's general direction.

As they went, Shiro tried him on the comms. _Multiple_ times, even, but not once did Keith answer. He truly tried to stop himself from worrying, but there was only so much that Shiro could think of that would prevent him from answering.

Eventually, though, they encroached upon his sector. A rare one or two galra bots were encountered and quickly destroyed by both Hunk and Lance's guns, and Pidge and Shiro kept a close eye on their rear.

"Is he still hooked up, Pidge?"

"Uhh... yep." She checked her data. "But everything relevant was pulled almost as soon as he'd started the transfer. He should've been notified of that like... five minutes ago."

She turned her worried gaze up to Shiro, who was quick to press his hand atop her head. "We'll get to him soon."

 

\---

 

The door flew open again, and Keith barely suppressed his whimper, slowly dragging his hand away from his bleeding side to summon his sword.

"Keith!"

Oh thank the stars and heavens _above_.

"Shiro..."

The team crowded around their wounded paladin, and hands fussed over him. Pidge unplugged his hand from the console, allowing him to slump fully against the panel. The motion, however, tugged on the knife embedded just below his lungs, and a choked cry escaped him.

"Dude, what _happened_?" Lance asked, sympathetically patting a very nauseous looking Hunk,  if his green-tinted cheeks were anything to go off of.

"I guess I forgot to check my surroundings before I hooked myself up." Keith laughed self-deprecatingly, and Pidge grimaced at the rush of blood that coated his fingers.

"You could've just disconnected. Called for help, or something."

He shrugged a shoulder. "I didn't want to corrupt the files, like last time."

Last time, Pidge had fussed up a storm about him doing that, too. Now she was very much so regretting putting that much pressure on him, especially now that she saw the extremes he would go to.

"He'll be okay, though, right? We just have to toss him into a pod and— Bam! He's good as new." Hunk worried, hands hovering over the gruesome looking knife.

"Yeah, except the Castle's getting gunned down. There's no way we'll make it up there, especially with one of us out of commission." Pidge huffed.

The Lions would be no help, either. They were far too underground for that, and making it to the surface would be just about as difficult as it was getting beneath it.

Shiro cleared his throat, hushing the others immediately. "First and foremost, we have to find a secure place to hide until the commotion dies down. I'll scout around and see if I can find bandages. Pidge, come with me and see if you can find a hideout."

"What about us?"

"You and Hunk stay here with Keith. Try to keep him from losing more blood if you can, and try not to get caught." They would probably need two people to carry him if worst came to worst. "Understood?"

"Roger that, boss man." Lance saluted with one hand, though by the way he fidgeted with his other, he was very _very_ nervous about the upcoming excursion.

Who could blame him, really, when the situation was already very bleak.

 

\---

 

Luck seemed to shine upon them, though, when Pidge hacked into a locked room and stumbled upon dozens of medkits. Most likely kept there for back-up in case of emergencies. Not only that, but the entire room was perfect for their situation. One point-of-entry meant it would be easy to guard, and it had an interface Pidge easily broke into, to give them some sort of alarm in case they were discovered prematurely.

Carrying Keith there was the hard part. He was insistent on walking with his own feet, and he had to rely on Lance to keep him from stumbling. Their similar heights easily allowed for him to lean on the other whenever he needed to, and Lance hardly needled him the entire way about it. He was far too worried for that.

Once safely behind locked doors, the team heaved a collective sigh of relief.

Shiro contacted Allura and updated her on the situation.

"I'm not sure how much longer it will take to shake them off. Even teleporting away and back did next to nothing. But we have the better firepower and we will not lose this fight, if I have anything to say about it."

Coran popped into view. "By my calculations, we should be finished with this within the next varga!"

"Good to know. We'll keep you posted." Shiro signed off, and turned back to Keith, who was waving away Lance and Hunk, who kept trying to offer him sacks stuffed full with scraps of cloth to act as a pillow as he climbed onto a half reclined medical cot.

"So we just have to keep most of his blood in until Allura rescues us? Easy peasy!" Lance wiped at his brow, plopping down on a nearby hunk of metal crate.

Keith groaned, hissing as Pidge slapped his hands away from the hilt of the blade still protruding from him. "I guess this isn't the best time to bring up I think that the knife was poisoned, is it?"

At that, everyone froze.

Then, they immediately took in the peculiarities of Keith's person. His _very_ pale skin, clammy with a cold sweat, the fact that he kept trembling despite his suit being kept at a regulated temperature. Shiro leaned in closed, and both of his pupils were blown so wide, the iris was hard to distinguish.

He swallowed heavily, and Shiro helped him take his helmet off. "You'll be alright, buddy." Already, Pidge was scanning him with Rover 2.0, pulling any data she could on the poison that was no doubt already thoroughly dispersed throughout his blood.

Beside them, Hunk wrapped both of his hands around Keith's shaky palm as means of comforting the other. Or maybe just to help himself feel better about the situation.

Lance was oddly quiet as he sat in the corner, doing little more than studying his bayard. Every so often, his mouth opened and stayed that way until it inevitably closed again, eyes darting up and down their wounded party member. There was little he could think of to do that would help the situation.

 

\---

 

Nearly half an hour later, Keith was delirious. He murmured things under his breath, and his eyes darted around, towards things that weren't really there.

Every so often, his body would jerk forward, and Hunk and Shiro would have to shove him back down against before he worsened his wound. It had happened so often that they both kept their hands firmly against his shoulders in anticipation the entire time.

"Have you found anything out, Pidge?" It was the third time Shiro had asked, and he hated putting pressure on her like that, but there was little more he could do.

"Not really, no." Came the testy reply. Then she sighed, dropping her shoulders. "I can only tell you that there's a lot of foreign... _something_ in his blood. I don't know what it is exactly, or how to get it out. We probably won't be able to find out unless we get him in a pod, or something."

Pidge dropped heavily at the foot of the cot Keith rested upon. "The good news, though, is that most of it isn't very lethal to humans."

"Is there bad news along with that?" Lance stepped forward finally, peeking over her shoulder to skim over the data that scrolled across Rover's screen.

"Unfortunately, Keith isn't fully human. His galra parts are, uh... pretty susceptible to the poison used. As in, like, if he were fully galra, he would probably not be with us right now..."

The air grew heavy in the room. Keith still mumbled nothings under his breath, and Hunk absently pushed back his sweaty bangs.

"He's not going to... you know." Lance actively avoided looking over at the slightly frantic Red Paladin. "You _know_."

"He's not going to die, I don't think." Pidge affirmed. "He's just going to be, uh... very pained. But the worst part, physically, will just be the bleeding wound." Which they'd long ago taken care of. The knife stayed deep in (to prevent further loss of blood), but the bandages held strong, and he would last until they made it back to the ship in the next few hours.

All they had to take care of was making sure he didn't injure himself further. Easy peasy.

 

\---

 

_It was so dark, he could barely see his own hands right in front of his face. The only light came from his knife, the sigil glowing an ominous purple at his hip even underneath the wraps he kept around it at all times._

_For some reason he was running as fast as he could. He wasn't scared, though, so maybe he was chasing after something? Either way, he knew he couldn't stop, even as his lungs screamed at him to just pause for one second; even as his legs felt pricked over with thousands of needles the longer he worked them._

_Then, he was blinded. So much of it at once had him crying out, keeling over as he tried to stop the stinging beneath his eyelids._

_"Keith? It's alright, I promise. I'll be back before you know it, and you'll probably be_ teaching _the fighter class, if I know you at all_."

"Shiro..." _He heard himself saying. It was a memory he thought of so much, he could probably act out both of their parts perfectly on the first try. "I'm proud of you, really. I just don't think I'll be able to do this without you."_

_"You've already done plenty without me. You made it to the garrison without me, and I wasn't the one to blow the teachers away with a top score on all of the simulators. That was all you, buddy. You just need to focus on your goals."_

_He would grunt, then, and Shiro would laugh as he tousled his hair. He'd be leaving the next day, and that evening would be the last they'd laugh together in a while. Longer than Shiro had promised._

_The pain in his side flared up, and he leaned heavily against the wall as Shiro began to walk away. Towards his ship. Already? He'd barely even said goodbye, and he was already going._

_"Shiro!"_

 

\---

 

"Why is he breathing like that?" Pidge muttered, shooing the others away to listen to his chest. "The poison shouldn't be doing that."

"Maybe..." Hunk frowned. "Maybe he's panicking about something?" He tentatively reached up to take a look at Keith's eyes again, now half-lidded instead of eerily staring off into the distance. They were still dilated to no end, but now they were flickering side to side like crazy.

Shiro pulled his hands away. "He may be getting overstimulated."

"Yeah, no kidding." Lance scoffed. "Poison will probably do that to a person."

Shiro shushed him, placing a comforting hand on the worried paladin's shoulder. "I'll check in with Allura. Keep him from thrashing around too much for me?"

"No prob', boss."

Before he even reached for his helmet, there was already the soft jingle that signified an incoming signal.

"Allura? We were just about to check in."

"We've got everything in control up here. Coran is coming down with your ride out of there, and I'll have a pod all set up by the time you all arrive." She sounded tired, if not thankful that the battle was finally over. "Is everything still alright?"

"I'll... explain on the way up."

 

\---

 

Fortunately, they made it out of the ground all in one piece, and Keith kept almost dangerously still the entire way. He'd refused to let go of Pidge's hand, though, but she didn't complain about the out of character gesture.

It was only when they tried to place him in a pod that he suddenly reacted, a bit extremely. He wrenched himself out of their hold, startling them so much that they'd dropped him straight on the floor, jostling the knife.

He cried out, dragging himself across the floor as he batted them away.

Then, the sword came out, and everyone wearily backed away. His unseeing eyes reached for his helmet, and his voice filtered through their com-link, shaky and pained.

"Guys, I need help. I'm surrounded and—" He interrupted himself with a distressed whine, fingers digging into his reopened wound. "And injured."

Everyone stayed frozen where they stood, and each and every pair of eyes darted to Shiro as he reached up to slowly slide his helmet back on his head.

"We read you, Keith. But you can stand down now."

"Shiro, you don't understand. There's too many, I don't think I can—!"

"It's alright, Keith." Shiro slowly stepped forward, and Keith's shaky hand lifted his sword even higher. The former took the hint, placatingly lifting his hands. "Stand down.."

Though it hardly seemed possible, the sword shook even harder in his hold.

" _Keith_."

The subsequent clatter resounded through the room as he finally dropped the weapon, and Shiro hurried forward to support Keith's back as he tilted over. With a sigh of relief, he helped the younger to stand.

Hunk shot him a thumbs-up, and Shiro responded with an unsettled smile.

And finally, Keith was placed in the pod again. His entire frame shook with fear, and all of their hearts ached at his frightened features. No doubt he was still neck deep in terrifying hallucinations.

Coran stepped forward one last time to sedate their Red Paladin before he removed the offending knife, passing it to Pidge to both research and dispose of as she pleased.

He'd be let out in a little less than two hours time, which gave each of them the perfect amount of time to debrief and reflect on the way the day could have gone even more wrong.

20 minutes later and they all found themselves meeting up in the hall to the medbay, completely by accident. They distracted each other for the rest of the hour easily with gentle teasing and dozens of pointless rock-paper-scissors games.

 

\---

 

Keith awoke to the pod being opened, misty frost filtering out around his body as he stepped out on weak knees.

He barely got in an arm stretch or two before he was jumped by his entire team.

First came Pidge, who started with an angry promise and a tight hug. "Never risk yourself for stupid data files again, or else I'll throw you out of an airlock myself."

He grimaced, hand hesitantly smoothing down the hair at the top of her head. "Sure."

Lance was next, smacking him against the shoulder as he pulled him in for a hug. He didn't say much, but Keith appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

Hunk engulfed the four of them in a tight hug, then, sniffling against Keith's shoulder.

"I'm okay, big guy. No need to cry."

"Dude, you were like _this_ close from being not okay." Hunk mumbled, squeezing them all even tighter, until Pidge loudly groaned in protest.

At that, Keith hesitated.

"What happened, exactly?"

The three shared a look, and Lance threw his hands up in defeat. "I'll leave this one to Fearless Leader." He wiggled from Hunk's hold, dragging Pidge along with him. "I'm sure you'll be more comfortable hearing it from him anyway."

Hunk stayed behind for a few minutes longer, only to blubber a bit more and hug Keith tightly.

Then he left, and it was only Keith and Shiro in the room.

They sat together on a nearby cot, the latter awkwardly shuffling his feet.

"What happened, Shiro?"

Shiro rubbed the back of his neck. "You were poisoned." Then, he ran his hand down his face. "It was pretty lethal. You, uh... wouldn't even still be here if it weren't for you being mostly human."

"Oh."

Keith slumped down, resting his elbows against his knees.

Shiro sighed minutely, sliding closer to rest his arm across Keith's shoulders. "You also had a few hallucinations to go along with the poisoning. You kept calling for us while you were passed out. Do you remember that?"

"Not really..." Not at all. He could only remember being scared and in pain. "Is that all that happened?"

"Pretty much." Shiro offered him a tender smile. "But let's not let something like this happen again. You scared me a lot today, Keith."

“Sorry.” He leaned over to rest his head against Shiro, absently fiddling with the faint scar line left by the pod. "Won't happen again." Then, his mouth twinged upwards, and he pulled back to do a half salute. "Fearless Leader."

Shiro playfully jabbed him in the shoulder until Keith cried out and tried to fight back— tangling his fingers in Shiro’s stark-white fringe as he made a grab for the other. And soon they both were rolling around on the ground in a play wrestle.

It would've been a silly and quite strange scene for anyone to walk in on, given their usually stoic rapport, but neither cared about that in the moment. After everything, they were content just to have this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little more Pidge heavy than I was expecting?????? which isn't even a bad thing LMAO
> 
> this was kind of a test for me about pacing and stuff so i was very out of my comfort zone writing it asdhasljd i hope it was enjoyable nonetheless! the ending was sudden b/c,,,,, i ran out of ideas,,,,,,,
> 
>  
> 
> but u know i originally imagined this entire scenario happening in a hollow tree and for the life of me i can't figure out why. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ there was no point in me sharing that but it was a cool concept fight me


	6. Allura - Painfully Polite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura - Painfully Polite - (character) has very strong feelings about how one should behave, and they are even more mindful when they’re not at their best, talking through a sore throat, trying not to cough, attempting to stifle sneezes, etc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a slightly silly one for allura b/c i love silly allura

Allura’s body jerked for the fifth time that morning, and Lance narrowed his eyes.

“Are you alright, Princess?”

The other conversations around the table halted almost immediately, but Allura just smiled brightly as she turned her head in his direction.

“I’m perfectly fine, Lance. Thank you.” She cleared her throat, and they could almost hear the phlegm shifting around.

Truth be told, she was miserable. Her head felt ridiculously heavy, like it’d been filled with water. Speaking of, her eyes twitched at every movement, heavy with tears that she would not allow to fall as her throat twinged with every breath. Despite how wet everything else was, her throat felt dangerously dry, like someone had left it out in the sun until it was a cracked, leathery mess.

Still, she wouldn’t allow her neatly built persona to topple over so easily just because of an illness. Breakfast was always something the team did together, and she was a sucker for tradition.

That, and princesses should show no weakness.

Lance raised a brow, but decided to let it go. Hunk opened his mouth to ask again, but Lance quickly interrupted and had him roped into a conversation about sand versus salt as a weapon with a figurative snap of his fingers.

Pidge, of course, cut in about how salt would be more painful, what with the chemical reactants with the blood.

“It would totally _suck_ to get shot by, say, a laser, and then a bunch of salt comes pouring out of nowhere. All of your neurons would go on the fritz, I’m telling you!” She scowled. “Salt is no joke.”

“You would know.” Lance teased, and Pidge flicked a piece of food at him.

“Yeah, but _sand_. Not only is it uncomfortable, but it would be absolutely _bananas_ to get out of a cut. Have you ever cut yourself on a shell on the beach or something and had to walk to get it cleaned?” Hunk shuddered, arms crossing around himself as his face morphed into dread. “I had to go to the hospital like twice for that!”

“But discomfort doesn’t mean much in the middle of a fight.” Keith cut in. “The salt will make it hurt more, like an added distraction. They’d probably have slowed reflexes, too.”

“Okay, _but_ \- and just hear me out - sand comes with a bunch of bacteria.” Lance said smugly. “They would totally be down for the count if they caught something.”

“Yeah, _if._ ” Pidge said. “There’s only a slight risk, if they have a suckish immune system. Plus it would take _forever_ to get infected, not instantly in the middle of a fight.”

The four overlapped as they argued their point, breakfast nearly forgotten as they more or less crawled on top of the table to illustrate their points.

“Calm down, guys.” Shiro said exasperatedly as he stood, gathering his dishes.

“Wait! Which would you choose, Shiro?” Lance said, diving to cling onto their leader’s arm to stop him from leaving so suddenly.

“Yeah! Team Salt or Team Sand?”

Shiro looked up into the ceiling as he thought about the silly question. But he would humor them, if only to get them to drop the subject.

“Both.”

“Cheater!” Lance pouted as Shiro tugged away. Before they could squeeze a reason out of him, Shiro escaped to the kitchen.

“Nice job being the tiebreaker.” Keith muttered under his breath as he slumped into his seat, arms crossed.

“It sounds to me like the salt is the better choice, if you’d like my opinion.” Allura butted in, and the four heads turned simultaneously towards her.

 _“Traitor.”_ Lance whispered accusatorily.

Allura blinked back her blurred vision, pausing as she forced her lungs to settle when they twinged. Coughing was so unsanitary, especially in the middle of a meal.

“However, if you have a choice between the two, wouldn’t it be better for each of you to pair off and attack with both?” She added as an afterthought.

Pidge lifted a finger, as if to argue again, but her mouth hung open noiselessly.

Then she shrugged, “She’s right! I mean, assuming that we all get to choose before we go into this hypothetical battle.”

Soft, murmured agreements echoed around the table.

“Heck yeah! Teamwork!” Lance jumped up and lifted his hand for a high-five. Hunk followed quickly, and pulled Pidge in at the same time. They turned to Keith, who paused with his spork halfway to his mouth. Slowly, he lifted his hand to join the jumbled pile of fingers.

Then, they turned to Allura, who paused in the subtle massaging of her throat. She eyed them thoroughly, before standing and placing her hand in the circle above their head.

A few beats of silenced ticked, before Lance burst out in a grin and yelled out an excited, “Teamwork!” and dropped their hands.

“Teamwork!” The others echoed, a bit less enthusiastic. Allura followed a few beats behind, and much more subdued.

Heavily, she leaned back in her seat and her eyes fluttered shut. The conversation around her lulled, and it was only when it was completely silent that she opened her eyes again to regard them, straightening her spine like a steel rod.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Princess?” Hunk spoke up this time. “Tired, maybe?”

“No, no. I’m doing perfectly fine.” She said, though her voice sounded thick and just a tiny bit hoarse. “Please, continue on.”

“I dunno, Princess. You’re looking kind of red around the…” Lance gestured vaguely to her cheeks. “Tattoos? Birthmarks?”

Allura touched her cheek, and the heat radiating from them had her pulling her fingers back quickly.

She awkwardly cleared her throat, but a cough caught and her lungs struggled as she held it in. “I’m fine.” Allura repeated, slowly inhaling so that her nose wouldn’t honk, what with it being congested.

Coran chose that moment to walk in, and his reaction of pointing at her in horror and stumbling over his own words had everyone jumping out of their seat.

“Princess! I thought I ordered you to bed rest today.” He griped, flying over to fuss like a mother hen. “You’re much too sick.” He reprimanded.

“I knew it!” Lance shouted triumphantly. “Wait… she’s _sick?_ ”

“A small case of the Paformium, I’m afraid.”

“The Paf-what?”

Coran continued over them, “Not to worry! It doesn’t easily spread.” He turned back to the Princess. “I do hope you weren’t talking excessively.”

“I only spoke -.”

“Ah! No words! Sore throats need rest.” He gathered her up along with the remainder of her breakfast. “Come, come. I’ll put you back to bed.”

She stumbled a bit on the stairs out of the room, but Coran was there to level her out and lifted his bicep for her to hold onto.

“Consider this a free day, paladins!” He called just before the door shut with a soft click.

The four looked at each other, expressions varying levels in confusion.

“I hope she’s going to be okay.” Hunk said finally, plopping back down in his seat.

Keith, Lance, and Pidge all nodded. Then, Lance stabbed his spork into Keith’s breakfast to steal a bit (seeing as he’d already cleaned his own plate) and the two broke off into an argument.

It echoed through the halls, loud enough to reach even Allura’s bedroom. She could make out the noises- or at least the vibrations- if she focused on them as she snuggled into her mountain of pillows and blankets.

It was strange to think of them as ‘defenders of the universe’, but they were a pretty good team. _Her_ team.

Of course, they would need a strong leader to guide them. Not a sick one.

Before she drifted off to her dreams, where Altea was still thriving and her people were happy, she wrote a mental note to herself. Find some salt and sand, and a weapon to use them with.

Zarkon would never see it coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this in fuckin december LMAO 
> 
> im pretty sure it was the very first out of all of these that i wrote??? bless


	7. Coran - Irreplaceable; Stepping Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coran - Irreplaceable - (character) is the leader/boss and isn’t able to take personal time off, even when they’re under the weather
> 
> Stepping Up - boss/leader (character) is clearly miserable, so the others go out of their way to take as much of their workload as possible

Coran miserably sniffled into his tissue, eyes minutely watering as his body tried to sneeze and cough at the same time.

The words on the screen in front of him blended together into a blob of gibberish, and no amount of blinking and rubbing at his eyes separated them back again.

He must have caught the Paformium from Allura the other day, then. Even despite his best efforts to sterilize everything, too.

He stifled his sigh. Couldn't exactly blame her for wanting to be a part of the team, after how hard she worked to bring them together. Not to mention, she must have been lonely being forced in her room the evening prior.

No, this was entirely on Coran. Next time one of them got sick, he'll have to double-  _triple_ his efforts to keep the others from catching it.

His throat felt like it had been dipped in spicy sauces and slapped back on his body, though. Quite unpleasant.

He clapped his hands together, dusting them off and shooing away his distracting thoughts. There was much too much work to be done for him to lay down and out all day. First, he needed run through those exercises with the paladins.

 

\---

 

As soon as he'd walked in the door, all five paladins hopped up to greet him like yalmor pups. Which was... unsual, because Pidge and Hunk absolutely hated their training sessions (though Hunk was less vocal about it).

"Nice to see you five in chipper spirits this morning!" He piped, inwardly cringing at his cracking voice. It was like going through puberty all over again, minus the uncontrollable shapeshifting. "I'll head up to the control room and we can get started in one tick."

"Actually, Coran... I took the liberty of starting us early this morning. We just finished up." Shiro informed.

Pidge rubbed at her neck as if it ached. "Under Allura's guidance." She stretched her back until it popped like a ball hitting a bat.

"Oh."

"We're glad we caught you, though. Want to join us for breakfast this time? I think I got the hang of that recipe you showed me, with the kavaks tear and vlalon horns?" Hunk kissed his fingers, one of those strange human things they did. "Delicious. I think. Kind of has a fruity aftertaste."

As if summoned by the words, his stomach growled. Coran's face turned just a few shades darker than his mustache.

"Well... a little breakfast never hurt anyone. I'll go and find the princess, to see if she'd like any."

"I'll do it!" Lance quickly volunteered, hopping away before Coran could take another step. "We'll meet you in the dining hall, yeah?"

As their blue paladin disappeared around the corner, Coran scratched at the back of his head.  Maybe it was his sickness, but the kids were acting a bit strange today, and it was only an hour or two after they woke up.

Maybe they were being affected by the illness as well. He'd have to check that out later.

 

\---

 

The dish Hunk had whipped up was absolutely divine. It was smooth going down, with a touch of some sort of chilling herb, which did wonders to Coran's aching throat.

He relaxed in his chair as he took another bite, eyes shutting as he absorbed the simple flavors.

"Is it... good?"

He cracked one eye open to take in Hunk's (and everyone else's) eager expression.

"It's delicious! Why, if I didn't know any better, I would have assumed it was cooked up by an Altean themself!" He reached over to give Hunk a firm pat on the back, as he'd learned was something humans did when they accomplished something good.

Hunk beamed under the praise, tossing an indiscreet thumbs-up to the other paladins.

 

\---

 

After breakfast, Coran was feeling a lot more energized. His sinuses had cleared, though he still kept his handkerchief on him just in case, and his head no longer felt heavier than his neck could hold.

This would be the best time to work on some repairs, when he didn't have to worry about accidentally injuring himself. He took off towards the bridge.

Once there, however, he nearly bowled over Keith, who had been sitting in front of the door.

"Ah, pardon me. Are you looking for something?"

"No." Keith said, blunt as ever. He crossed his arms as he stood, and hesitantly followed Coran inside.

As Coran began to pull out a few different tools, Keith picked them up and set them off to the side. This continued for three more turns before Coran's lips quirked up.

"Can I help you, Keith?"

The red paladin paused, turning over the wrench in his hand as he contemplated. Then, he plopped it on the opposite side of him and shook his head. "No."

Coran's eyebrows shot up. "I see. Well, what are you doing with those tools over there?"

"Stopping you from using them."

Ever the difficult one, he was.

"May I ask why?"

Keith half-heartedly shrugged. When he said nothing more, Coran sighed.

"Would you mind handing them back, then? I must get to work."

Lance poked his head in through the door, startling the heebies out of Coran. "There you are! Hey, Coran will you come help me?"

"I'm in the middle of-"

"It'll be really quick! Promise!" Lance came in and began to physically drag Coran away. Behind his back, he shared a wink and a thumbs-up with Keith.

That was how Coran found himself sitting in some sort of plush chair, legs resting at a comfortable 25 degrees in conjunction with the floor. What a marvelous Earth invention.

"What does this do, again?"

"It- uh... chases exhaustion away from the body and calms the mind. It's very crucial to humans in the healing process." Pidge recited, as if reading off the back of her hand.

"I keep saying we should have La-Z-Boy's in every room, but nobody ever listens." Hunk says sagely, snickering at Pidge's exasperated look.

"This one took _forever_ to make."

Coran tuned out of their conversation, wiggling to get even more comfortable in the cloth frame. It was like being wrapped in a half hug, and Coran wasn't sure _why_ Alteans didn't have these 'Lazy Boys' like humans did. Again he thought to himself, what a marvelous Earth invention.

He barely noticed as the three of them, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge, quieted down, and he was much too far gone to realize that he'd been tricked into taking a nap. He was snoring away not five minutes after plopping down into the seat, and the three sneaky paladins shared an accomplished high-five above his head.

 

\---

 

Coran woke hours later, feeling more comfortable than he had in 10,000 years. A serving platter pressed in his lap, and the enticing smell of homemade soup wafted up to his nose.

He blinked the sleep from his eyes and came face to face with six pleased smiles.

"What's going on?"

Allura dipped a spork into the bowl, stealing a bite before Coran could taste it for himself. "We knew you were feeling sick, so we gave you the day off."

"But we also knew you wouldn't be comfortable just sitting around doing nothing." Shiro added.

"So you- tricked me?!" Coran spluttered. "I have so much work to do." He nearly spilled the soup all over him, but Hunk's quick hands steadied the plate.

"We did everything that needed to be worked on, don't even worry!" Lance quickly calmed him. "Anything else can wait until you're feeling better."

Allura shoved the spork into Coran's mouth to muffle his complaints. "Shush, Coran. You and I _both_ know you needed this rest."

"Your sniffles sound better already." Keith offered.  
Coran couldn't exactly argue with that, or any of their assertions to be honest.

And the soup was quite delicious. Something he vaguely remember eating from his childhood, before he'd met even King Alfor. He couldn't help himself, being the emotional creature he was, and he reached out to wrap all of them in a big hug as he sniffled wetly.

Someone patted him on the back, and he gave them one last tight squeeze before he let them go to shove sporkfuls of the delicious food into his mouth.

He'd shower them in his thanks later. For now, he'd let himself bask in their attention and see just what it feels like to be on the other end of 'doting'. Just for today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was a little difficult for me? i'm not sure if it was because i'm new to writing Coran's character, or if i was trying too hard to fit everyone in to the tiny snippets. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> what i DO know is that coran needs more love 2kForever
> 
> side note: the reason why the paladins were trying to distract him all day was partly to keep him from working too hard and partly to let allura try and find a good recipe from the Olden Days to help him get better. 
> 
> hope you enjoyed! one more chapter to go!


	8. Slav - Why Didn’t You Say?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why Didn’t You Say? - (character) hasn’t been feeling well, making for some uncharacteristic behavior, and their partner(s)/team/friends are much more understanding once they realize why
> 
>  
> 
> \--- 
> 
> SURPRISE GUEST SLAV CHAPTER YAY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took,,,, SO LONG and i really apologize for that! i couldn't think of what i wanted to do for the last chapter, and then a friend of mine suggested I try something with slav! And now here we are
> 
> this was kind of a mix between a character study of the interactions b/t the paladins and slav, as well as a kind of... chance of me trying out non-verbal cues. it's hard to explain??? LMAO but it was basically just me trying to have a character act OOC, but only on a base level???? 
> 
> ANYWAY! i hope you guys enjoy this one! it took forever for me to finish this series but i learned a lot over time, and you can definitely see a bit of progress from the first chapter to the last in my opinion.
> 
> ONTO THE SICK SLAV

Allura was flabbergasted. Upon waking up and heading towards the kitchens for the Paladin's breakfast, she very nearly ran over the crumpled form of their resident Bytor.

Slav was fidgeting with his hands in front of the dining hall's door, not close enough for it to automatically slide open, but very much so in the middle of the hallway. He took up so much space, stretched out as he was, that the only way to get past would have been to step over him.

It was... very bizarre.

"Are you alright, Slav?"

She gathered her skirts to bend over and listen to him as he mumbled against the floor.

"I didn't catch that."

He mumbled, louder, but it was much too garbled for her to make sense of. She assumed that he was spouting off percentages of realities, as he usually did, and so decided to leave him be.

"Excuse me, then." After a moment's hesitation, she hopped over his body and made her way into the dining hall. Hopefully, the paladins would be watching where they were going and not step on the genius while he was doing... whatever it is he was doing.

 

\---

 

Lance found himself eating space linoleum between one moment in the next. He heard Hunk's surprised shout as he went down, and it registered half a second too late before he was dazedly turning over and rubbing at his sore nose.

"Wh- Slav??"

Hunk helped Lance to stand, and then the two of them peered at the prone figure that was the liberated prisoner.

"What's he doing?" Hunk whispered loudly.

"Counting atoms?"

Slav had slid quite a ways down the hall from when Allura had found him, and Lance and Hunk were the first to encounter him since. If they looked close enough, they could see a faint trail of some sort of wetness following the path Slav took. Sweat, maybe?

Hunk nearly slipped in it as he stepped on the other side of Slav, and the two boys made a disgusted noise as it stuck to Hunk's shoe thickly and wouldn't wipe off no matter how hard he scraped his heel against the floor.

"Should we get Coran?"

Lance scratched at his swelling nose. "Maybe."

 

When they came back to the hallway nearly ten minutes later with Coran in tow, Slav was nowhere in sight.

 

\---

 

Pidge was elbow deep in calculations and equations, nearing the biggest breakthrough of her short little life. Never again would she reach this headspace she was in, where numbers were a breeze and flowed through her like a river that had been carving through mountains for eons. Her fingers would never again reach the top speeds they were reaching in that moment, gliding across the keyboard like a ballerina across a stage.   
  
A mound of eight arms flopped uselessly behind her, scaring her out of her trance so hard that she deleted a chunk of coding.

  
Aw, quiznak.   
  
She smacked the lid of her laptop closed, angry words growing on her tongue until she noticed the way Slav was shivering against the ground.   
  
"I already told you Slav, we don't have any tears in time-space. Yet." Pidge scratched at her head. "Again. I'll keep you posted on that."   
  
Slav groaned, curling up in a tightly wrapped ball between her legs, jarring her laptop out of the way.   
  
"Hey!"   
  
He purred— purred! Like a cat and everything— as the overworked fan vibrated across his back, and the heat burned against his clammy skin.   
  
Pidge pinched at the bridge of her nose to clear her vision. She almost felt like she was having an out of body experience. "No more space-coffee for me." She mumbled to herself, before prying her legs from his grip and rolling over into a stand.   
  
Slav stayed where he was, though he scooted closer to where she'd been sitting to absorb some of the heat she'd left.   
  
She half-expected him to yell at her for increasing chances of whatever doomsday, but he just sat prone and coiled. It was a little worrying, and a lot bizarre.   
  
Pidge gathered her work, silently mourning the loss of one of her most productive days yet, and decided to blow off steam by playing a video game with Lance. Or drinking more coffee.   
  
Slav tapped his fingers against the floor until the noise rattled around her brain like marbles in a jar.   
  
A big yes to the coffee, actually.   
  
\---   
  
"You're so lucky I turned around when I did." Shiro teased, tousling Keith's hair. "You would've been crushed flat."   
  
"I could've handled it." Keith mumbled around the straw of a water pouch. "But, thanks."   
  
"Anytime."   
  
The two of them amicably chatted with one another on the way to the mess hall, until Keith skidded to a stop with a small curse.

"I forgot my bayard. I'll catch up with you in a bit."

Shiro fanned his hand across his face, still overheated from their sparring session. "Of course. I'll save you a plate."

Keith darted off back the way they came, always in a rush even when there was no need.

The bayard was exactly where he left it, strewn in the corner after it got slapped out of his hands by an angry gladiator. Thank goodness the things didn't break easy.

He gathered it up and hooked it under his arm along with his towel, and did a full 180 in the opposite direction, only to startle as Slav stumbled on deck.

Keith twitched his fingers around the bayard as Slav walked on unsteady feet towards the other side of the room, only to drop onto all eight of his hands and crawl across the floor like a giant ferret-spider.

"Are you looking for something?"

Slav jumped nearly a foot in the air, as if he hadn't realized Keith was in the room. He shrieked, like a banshee straight out of a horror movie, and darted into a nearby corner with a loud, whistling hiss.

Keith took a large step backwards, dropping into combat stance. Immediately, he reached for the communicator on the wall and phoned for the bridge.

There was fumbling on the other end, echoing across the loudspeakers, before Coran piped up.

"Ah, Keith? You didn't break all of the gladiators again, did you?"

"No." Keith shot back, defensively. "You might want to make some more, though. But that's not why I called. I think something's wrong with Slav."

He heard Coran hum, and he could just imagine him stroking his mustache. "That's the second time today someone has said that exact same thing to me. Keep him in place for me? I'll be down in a millionth of a tick!"

The comms clicked off, and Keith shuffled towards the door, to block Slav's potential exit.

Slav stayed where he sat, clicking ominously at Keith like a pissed off bird. His hands would scratch at the ground every three seconds, first on his left side, and then his right, before he would slide further away from Keith.

Keith grumbled under his breath, before he dropped lower so that he was more at eye-level with the Bytor and slid a bit closer.

"Are you hurt, Slav?"

He could hear Slav mumbling under his breath, and if he squinted he was pretty sure the other was minutely shaking.

"Coran is on his way." Keith tried instead. "You're comfortable around him, right?"

As he advanced closer, Slav curled his back upwards, just like the black cats on Halloween decorations. Keith placatingly lifted his hands in front of him, dropping to his knees.

He'd heard plenty about Slav from Shiro. They two of them got along absolutely horrifically, and so Keith had no idea how Slav would react to what Keith did, especially in the jittery state he seemed to be in.

So, Keith resolved to make himself as non-threatening as possible. That should help him to alleviate some of the unease. He slid closer, cutting the distance between them in half. Slav whimpered, shoving his tiny little hands over his face. He seemed to be in some sort of pain, but there was no way he could have gotten hurt on the ship, right?

"If you're injured, you need to tell me. I can carry you to the healing pods."

Slav ignored him, scratching against the floor again. He slid a few inches to the left, scratching there, too.

A few minutes later, Coran finally appeared in the doorway. Keith had slowly but surely slid his way across the ground and had his hand pressed against the curve of Slav's back, petting him like an ornery pet. The strokes were slow, but when he paused the motions to look at the doorway, Slav made a pained sound in the back of his throat.

The look Coran got from Keith was mixed with profound relief and nothing short of 'Please, for the love of god, help me.'

Coran crossed the room in three strides, already scanning the Bytor with a number of equipment pulled out from behind his back.

Allura appeared next, worriedly chewing her bottom lip.

"I came as soon as I could." She announced, stepping on the other side of Coran. "Slav is hurt?"

"I'm not sure." Keith spoke up. "He stalked in the training room and then huddled in the corner when he realized I was here."

Before the two could begin to theorize, the trio that was Lance, Hunk, and Pidge popped in, followed shortly after by an uneasy Shiro.

"What's going on?"

The scanner in Coran's hands beeped, and he thumbed the ends of his mustache. "Huh..."

After minutes of waiting for him to clarify, Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What's wrong with him, Coran?"

"Oh! Well, he's not injured. Technically. No, no, he's right as rain! He's just— how do I put this..."

Coran stood, shooing Keith and Allura away to lift the dazed scientist over his shoulders.

"He's going through withdrawals, is the best way to put it, I suppose."

"Of quintessence?"

"Of that, and whatever else they gave him back on Beta-Traz."

Lance sliced his hands through the air, shaking his head. "Wait— wait, wait. But we rescued him from there like, a _million_ years ago. Why is he only going through withdrawals now?"

Coran motioned for the group to follow, slapping a patch of something or another across Slav's back, something to soothe the pains wracking his spine.

 

\---

 

In the medbay, after getting Slav hooked up on a cot and having him drink something to make him sleep, Coran pulled up a few charts and diagrams.

"Bytors, for centuries, were built for dexterity and durability. Even after 10,000 years, they'd evolved to be nothing short of biological ideals. I mean! Look at this. Their hands are _perfect_ for gripping, though I personally would have made the fingers a bit longer, myself..." He leaned in close, mumbling to himself. "Maybe larger eyes, as well..."

"Yes— but what does this mean for Slav?" Pidge interceded, flicking the monitor off. "He's held in the quintessence all this time?"

"Most likely, but not on purpose. They probably built up a dependency for him, and he just reserved stores of it, in case of a drought. When we saved him that must have, in a sense, activated it."

"Oh, geeze...." Hunk rubbed the back of his neck. "Is there anything we can do for him?"

Coran checked Slav's vitals. "Not at the moment, I'm afraid. He'll have to sweat it out."

Hunk and Lance shared a look. Lance hooked his arm around Pidge, despite her immediate outcry, and tugged her along with them as they headed for the door. "We're gonna make him a get-well-soon basket. Hey— do you think he'll like chocolate?"

Hunk sagely nodded his head. "If he doesn't, it is a _travesty_."

Pidge groaned, but allowed herself to be dragged out of the door.

A few minutes after they left, Allura sighed and sat on a clear space on the cot. "I feel... awful. I stepped over him in the hall earlier today, and he's been hurting even before then."

Coran placed his hand on her shoulder and gave her a firm pat. "He'll be fine, Allura. We've all gotten a bit too used to his eccentricities, that we stopped paying attention to anything out of the norm."

"This was going to happen sooner or later, right?" Keith piped up. "It couldn't have been prevented?"

"It could have, but not in a way that would have helped him in the slightest." Coran confirms. "While it may have been better for us to have some sort of preparation beforehand, it's a good thing he's going through this."

Coran then grimaced. "Imagine I said that, but with better wording."

Keith's eyebrows pinched together, and he picked over the words before he nodded with a relieved look.

"Good."

 

\---

 

The rest of the day continued on relatively normal. Someone would check in on Slav every so often, usually to ensure he wasn't overheating.

He hesitated under the attention, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Everyone seemed to be rolling in their discomfort, especially given how _quiet_ he was being.

"You don't need anything?" Lance asked, after they’d dropped off their ‘get well soon’ basket full of knick-knacks and not-chocolate, and all Slav did was burrow under the amassed pillows that had been piled around him.

Then, he poked one of his short little legs out of the pile and curled it in a fist before giving them a thumbs-up.

When they left later on, Lance admitted that it was probably the strangest thing he'd seen since they'd been shot out into space, but it was simultaneously the cutest.

"Just hope he gets better soon, dude. Space withdrawals have to be like... a _million_ times worse than regular withdrawal."

"I don't think that's how it works." Pidge pointed out, and Lance shushed her by shoving his hand in her face and pushing her glasses down her nose.

The two would be wrestling for the rest of the night, probably.

Hunk mumbled to himself, sidestepping around the dwindling group towards the dining hall. "I wonder if Slavs can eat chicken noodle soup."

Allura shot him a confused look. "What is a 'chicken'?"

The two of them were the next to leave, as Hunk explained the finer points of poultry and poultry dishes.

This left Keith, Shiro, and Coran to watch over the Bytor for the next hour or so. The two remaining paladins made a seat for themselves near the stairs and wasted the time away just by talking, until Coran shooed them out of the room so Slav could get some peace and quiet.

"I guess I'll go train some more." Keith said, an obvious invitation if Shiro decided to take him up on it.

"I think I'm done for the day. Don't overwork yourself, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah." Keith tossed a wave over his shoulder as he walked towards the training deck.

"And don't forget to eat!" Shiro shouted, just to tease him just before he disappeared around the corner.

 

\---

 

It was that time of day between late night and early morning. Maybe four a.m.? Shiro couldn't be sure, but the sound of skittering across the floor had him wide awake all at once.

He held his breath as the noise drew closer, and he was just about to flip out of the bed with his arm lit and ready, when he heard the telltale sound of Slav knocking against the floor.

Shiro huffed out his breath, swiping at the cold sweat on his face with his palm.

"Slav?"

The noises stopped, before he heard the genius shuffle closer.

"Lights at 40."

The room illuminated in a soft blue, dark enough not to blind the two of them. Slav was hunched over, most of his hands stuffed in their little pockets. Three, however, were pulling him across the floor and closer to Shiro's feet.

Shiro stood, and the difference in height was so extreme that he felt uncomfortable. He dropped a bit lower and rubbed at the back of his neck.

"What are you doing outside of sickbay?"

He wasn't expecting much of an answer, but was greatly surprised when Slav cleared his throat and spoke audibly for the first time that day.

"I'd feel much more comfortable here. There's an 86% less of a chance of my death if I'm near you and your arm." Came the polite information.

Shiro glanced down at his galra arm, and he held in his sigh. Then, he began weighing the pros and cons.

Cons: Slav would be sleeping in his room for the rest of the night, and _might_ start spouting facts and figures as he usually did.

The pros weren't as instant to come to his brain, but when he glanced back at Slav, he noticed the slouched way he held himself, still laying against the ground. He seemed weak, and his eyes looked rubbed raw, like he'd been scratching them after a long cry.

And, well... No one could call Shiro heartless.

"Alright." He stood tall, hesitated for a brief second, and leaned back down to lift Slav onto the bed and plop him on the side near the wall. "Just... get some sleep. And don't bring up the arm."

Slav made a noise of agreement, and Shiro climbed on the free side of the bed.

He didn't even complain when Slav slid closer and pressed his tail against his leg. His eye may have twitched a little, but he cut the sick Bytor some slack. They may not have been _friends_ , but he could appreciate wanting to feel safe while you're sick.

Slav fell asleep in record time, and, only when Shiro was absolutely sure he wouldn't wake up, Shiro reached over to share his pillow with him.

Then, he grabbed his tablet and pulled up a trashy Altean novel to read. Might as well relax until he _actually_ has to be up and about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeet
> 
> fun fact: i wrote slav 47 times. i just couldn't find three more times to type his name to make it an even 50 unfortunately,,,, rip in pieces.
> 
> i like to imagine that in a weird way, keith is really good at handling slav (even if he's sick and out of sorts). i ALSO am one of those people who wants shiro and slav to be friends LMAO
> 
> but alas, it is probably just a dream. 
> 
> EITHER WAY! thank you all so much for supporting me in this project, and i apologize for all of the random, unannounced hiatuses. hiati? 
> 
> <3 i really hope you all enjoyed both this and the rest of the stories if you read them. Over time I've grown as a writer, and a few of this chapters kind of disappoint me in hindsight, but I'm glad that people are still able to enjoy them regardless and i appreciate all of the feedback i've gotten! 
> 
> LOVE YOU ALL!!!! bye bye!

**Author's Note:**

> i have a tumblr [here](https://jamthedingus.tumblr.com) if u wanna talk to me about things (it's sometimes nsfw, so watch out!)


End file.
